


and we are not alone

by sunflowersmile



Category: Legend Series - Marie Lu
Genre: AU, Gen, I don't want to accept that he died, I love June and Metias as siblings so much, I may build on this idea later, Metias is a ghost, So here we are, metias kind of lives?, sorry this is short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:15:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26981239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowersmile/pseuds/sunflowersmile
Summary: In this world, when the life seemingly fades from Metias, June isn't as alone as she feels.
Relationships: June Iparis & Metias Iparis
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	and we are not alone

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know where this will go, and I may build on it and add more chapters, or I may not, but here it is and I hope you like it! <3 (thank you so much if you're reading this)

June heard the words they told her, but she didn’t believe them.

They told her that her brother was gone. Dead. They whispered apologies and pretended to comfort her, but none of it felt real. Metias couldn’t be gone. He wouldn’t leave her like that.

He couldn’t be dead.

He couldn’t be.

He spoke to her that afternoon, said there was something he needed to tell her. They were going to see each other again and they’d sit and talk and he’d reprimand her about school, but they’d end up laughing and hugging. That’s how it was meant to be. That’s how it always was.

_Forever and ever, kid. Until you’re sick and tired of seeing me._

“You promised,” June spat out, hot tears running down her cheeks. She looked up into the night sky and wished she could see his face, that she could see him one last time.

No—she wished he were right here next to her, pointing out the constellations. The way he always did, one hand on her shoulder, the other showing her the universe.

He’d whisper about the legends, the ones that have survived hundreds of centuries. He told her about the battles fought long ago, about the people who were just like them.

June would ask if Metias wanted to be a legend, a hero remembered long after he’s gone.

Metias told her that he didn’t want to become a legend, that he just wanted to be remembered by those who loved him most, and that would be enough.

_“But I won’t have to remember you, I’ll always have you, right?”_

_“Of course, Junebug. I’ll be with you forever and ever.”_

This isn’t forever and ever. This isn’t how it’s meant to be. June could lose anybody else in her life, and she’d survive—she always does. She’d survived her parents dying, she could even survive losing Thomas or Ollie. She’d make it through—because Metias would be by her side.

But she couldn’t lose Metias. He’s her brother. He’s her entire family.

He was her best friend; he was the parent she never had. He took care of her, and he was always going to be there. He wiped away her tears and gave her Ollie and made her laugh and made her smile. He would listen to her when she cried because the kids at school made fun of her. He taught her not to let them reach her, he taught her to let their words glide right off her, instead of sinking deep into flesh. Still, when she would come home crying, his arms would always be open.

He can’t just be gone. He can’t just die. It doesn’t work like that. He’s a better person than most of the Republic. He shouldn’t be another casualty, another name on the news reports.

_But that’s all he’ll be._

“No,” June whispered to herself. She wouldn’t let them forget him— _she wouldn’t forget him._ She’ll keep him close to her heart while she finds the person who did this and kills him.

In her head, June heard the faint echo of Metias’ voice, the crumbling remains of him. It made her wish that Metias was here to hold her, to wipe away her tears.

June wanted—she _wanted_ so desperately for Metias to be with her. To tell her it’ll be okay. To tell her he was never really gone. Maybe even just to hold until morning, until everything hurt a little less.

June wished the world were fair, and that her brother truly would stay with her forever and ever.

* * *

In the Republic, your duty comes before anything else. But for Metias, his sister was his everything. He’d skip meetings to take care of her, he’d skip ceremonies. June came first, and that was that. He was always there for her, and it would always be that way.

Until it wasn’t.

“Why couldn’t you have stayed?” June cried out, hatred almost consuming her. Metias’ line of work put him at some risk, but his death was the fault of that stupid criminal—the one all over the news.

Day _._

“I’m going to find him, Metias. I’m going to find him and I’m going to kill him. His life is mine.” June has made many promises, but this one feels as though she’s sealed it with her blood. With Metias’ blood. With her grief and tears and her blinding pain.

_I didn’t think I raised you to hate._

“Metias?” June asked frantically, her eyes darting to the shadows, the dark corners not illuminated by streetlights. Nobody is there, nobody. Shaking her head, June started to walk back home, fresh tears already filling her eyes. “He’s dead, June. Don’t be stupid. You saw him, he’s not coming back. You’re just imagining things.”

_Junebug._

“It can’t be Metias, I’m tired and crying and probably hearing things. It’s not real. It’s not real, June.”

_You didn’t think I’d leave that easily, right? Have a little more faith in your big brother. I promised I’d be here for you, forever and ever._

Standing in her dark apartment, June stopped moving, barely breathing at all.

“Metias? Is that really you?” Her voice cracked, and she fell to her knees. Why does it have to hurt so much? Why does it feel like half of her is here and the other half laying in the morgue?

There’s this great big gaping hole in her chest and it feels as though it will never be filled again. There’s tears running down her cheeks and she can’t imagine a future where they don’t pour down her cheeks every morning she wakes up without her brother, every meal she eats without him, every night she falls asleep to the sound of silence—instead of his quiet goodnights.

_It’s me._

“Prove it.”

June heard a lot of banging in Metias’ room, in the room of her dead brother. There’s no explanation for it, except whatever this voice was.

Still not daring to move, or make any sort of noise, June stayed still, in the middle of their living room. She thought Ollie was right beside her, until she heard a whimpering coming from the kitchen.

On the refrigerator, written out with magnetic letters that must not have seen daylight in at least 10 years, three words were written.

_Believe me now?_

“I do, I really do,” June whispered to herself, sliding down to the floor, her back against the cabinet. Her logic is fried, and she’s tired. This must be some messed up dream, but it all feels so real. The aching in her heart, the reality of Metias’ death, the strange appearance of the magnets.

Ollie curled up next to her, and she pet his head gently. June wanted to touch the magnets, to know that they’re real—but she was so afraid that they’d fall off and disappear. That they’d shatter into a million pieces.

_I’m here, Junebug. Don’t cry for me._

“How?” June asked, her voice half-strangled with her tears and fear. There’s no response, but Ollie curled up tighter against her side—and June could swear she felt a warmth spread through her.

* * *

They’d told them about ghosts, about loved ones trapped between worlds. How too many ties connected them to this earth, that even death could not sever them. They were taught that the defining feature of those ghosts is how cold they are, how they drop the temperature of an entire room.

They’re told about how their presence strikes fear in your heart, it makes you want to lock all your doors and cower under your blankets. They were taught to always be on the defense when dealing with ghosts.

But the warmth running up June’s spine wasn’t cold, it wasn’t harsh. It filled her entire body and reached its delicate tendrils into the hole inside of her. It didn’t take away the pain, but it didn’t make it any worse. It spread warmth around the edges and for now, that was enough.

June remembered the essay she wrote about ghosts for school. She didn’t care about how scary they were, or how many degrees the temperature dropped when they entered a room.

June wrote about the pain.

How much it hurt to be stuck on this earth, never able to leave, never able to truly die. Ghosts’ souls are torn in half, their entire existence is dependent on the pain. The pain tells them that there’s something they need to do, that there’s so many promises that still hold them to this earth.

Many ghosts forget, and then they’ll never reach the next world, the life after death. They forget their promises, and that’s why they’re forever in pain.

Those ghosts are forced to watch all their loved ones die, all the people whom they had made promises to. They watch them suffer, watch them grieve over their death. Most ghosts can’t talk to them, unless they’re keeping a promise. They can’t comfort them. They can’t wipe away their tears and tell them, it’s alright, I’m right here. They can only watch as they cry and cry and cry, and as their hair slowly turns gray and as the world keeps revolving even when they’re long gone. 

“Does it hurt?”

_Not when I’m looking after you._


End file.
